


cake pops

by semipeaceful



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ... the cake pops are a metaphor, Akaashi Keiji Is So Done, Alternate Universe - Bakery, BokuAka Week 2020, M/M, One Shot, Strangers to Lovers, akaashi owns a bakery, bokuto is a pro player, with an intense hatred of cake pops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semipeaceful/pseuds/semipeaceful
Summary: Bakery AU for Bokuaka Week 2020Akaashi hates cake pops.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 104
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	cake pops

If you were to ask Akaashi Keiji what his favorite thing to bake was, he might respond with chocolate chip cookies (easy to make, great for parties, and usually accompanied with more than a few sighs of content from the consumer). Or maybe he might say a loaf of sourdough bread (just difficult enough that it was impressive to non-bakers, but straightforward and practical for sandwiches or dinner or fancy toast). Or, if you caught him in a more self-indulgent mood than usual, he might respond with those rich truffles made of expensive French chocolate. The ones that never graced the shelves of Keiji’s quiet bakery, but were made and eaten on his shameful Friday nights, alone in his cold apartment.

He could list any number of delicious items sold at the White Owl Bakery, from their benefits to their calorie count, and come up with a valid argument for every item as to why they were his favorite.

Every item, except for the dreaded cake pops.

He wasn’t sure where his disgust for the chocolatey and lemony confections came from, whether from the unsavory way the cake and frosting slush got stuck in between his fingernails, or his frustrations as a student pastry chef in getting the perfect smooth chocolate shell, or the fact that they were entirely too sweet, but he dreaded every moment as he destroyed the perfectly adequate sheet cake and lathered it in buttercream and sprinkles.

When Akaashi had told Konoha that his loan had been approved and that he was finally following his dream and opening his own bakery, the bastard had merely said, “Are you gonna have cake pops?”

"Cake pops are the worst.”

“But the kids like them.”

“It’s a bakery, and kids like anything with a lot of sugar. I think it’ll be okay.”

The first child to step into the White Owl Bakery asked for a cake pop.

Akaashi set his pride aside and made cake pops.

By four pm, Akaashi’s nerves were fried. Really, there were three main rushes of customers in his (usually) quiet bakery: morning (for those who wanted a fresh donut or croissant before work), lunch (usually grabbing practical items like his breads or bulk desserts for a later event), and after-school (when a majority of his actual individual sweets were bought by teenagers or children or parents with tired eyes).

But, by four, his store was empty of customers, not wanting to spoil their appetite before dinner.

It was his quiet time, when he could breathe.

So why was there a man yelling about candy in his store at 4:09 PM?

Okay, so he wasn’t  _ yelling _ , but he was talking very loudly and gesticulating in a way that made Akaashi worry that he might knock something off the counter.

“So do you have those?” The man asked, finally shutting up and looking at Akaashi with wide, expectant eyes.

Akaashi blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“They’re like… a circle…? And they have a stick, and they’re sweet-”

“This is a bakery,” Akaashi interrupted. “Almost everything is sweet.”

The man pouted, looking like a child, despite the very large and very buff body he occupied.

“They have like a shell, and they’re decorated, and they have cake in them-”

Akaashi resisted the urge to violently roll his eyes. “Do you mean cake pops?”

“Yes!” The man cried, all the concern and frustration disappearing in an instant. “That’s it! I want those."

Moving to the other side of the counter, Akaashi pointed out the section devoted to the yellow and pink balls. “We make lemon and chocolate, which one would you like?”

“Hm… both!” He added, gleefully, “It’s a cheat day for me, so why not!”

Akaashi could think of a couple reasons for  _ why not _ , starting with the fact that cake balls were shit and ending with the fact that his lemon bars were described as, “To die for,” by more than a couple local food critics.

Still, Akaashi swallowed his complaints and bagged the desserts. The man paid and left, leaving his store blissfully quiet in his wake, leaving Akaashi to wonder what grown adult orders  _ cake pops  _ and pray he never saw the man again.

A week later, the man was back.

_ Please don’t order a cake pop, please don’t order a cake pop- _

“Two cake pops, please!”

_ Fuck. _

“Your total is $4.95.”

Instead of providing anything useful, like his payment of choice or an apology, the man merely offered, “I’m Bokuto, by the way!”

“Okay, Bokuto, cash or card?”

Bokuto’s smile faltered for a moment, tilting his head curiously. After Akaashi realized he wasn’t going to pay without something in return, he sighed and said, “Akaashi Keiji. Cash or card?”

“Cash!”

And thus, a routine began. Every Wednesday, around 4 PM, Bokuto, the loud, childish, energetic customer would return, order two cake pops for his “cheat day”, and leave Akaashi alone with his headache.

On the fifth week, Bokuto frowned as he squatted in front of the display.

“Something wrong?”

Bokuto frowned harder. “They look different today.”

“Yeah,” Akaashi leaned over the counter, looking through the glass to the desserts. “I thought I would go for a more simple design.”

Really what had happened was that Akaashi had run out of sprinkles, so the pink and yellow balls were plain candy melt, without the usual ornamentation. They looked less appealing, but Akaashi didn’t want to spend any more time mulling over the monstrosities than strictly necessary.

Bokuto made a noise that implied he was thinking about something, so part of Akaashi hoped that this would be the breaking point where he would grow taste buds and ask for something with actual flavor. Instead, he clicked his tongue and said, “You should decorate them more.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean to offend you!” Bokuto said, quickly. “I just think they look kind of plain!”

Akaashi had gone through two years of pastry school. Of course he was offended. But still, he bristled quietly, and pretended he  _ wasn’t  _ offended, and offered his polite customer service not-quite-smile.

“What would you suggest, then?”

“Hm…” Bokuto thought for a moment, tilting his head back and forth as he stared at the cake pops. Finally, he had a revelation, springing up excitedly to meet Akaashi face to face. “Owls!”

Akaashi blinked.

“... Owls?”

“Yeah, owls!” Bokuto enthused, excitedly. “Your bakery is named after an owl, so why not have owl cake pops! I  _ love  _ owls!”

Rather than answer, Akaashi gave an uncommitted hum, glancing up from the desserts to look at his familiar customer. Suddenly, he was very aware of how close both of their faces were, both leaning on the counter to stare down at the display.

Akaashi cleared his throat, quickly retreating away from Bokuto’s vicinity to grab a paper bag, not trusting the hiccup of his heart.

“One of each?”

And if Akaashi looked up  _ owl cake pop _ on his phone after Bokuto left, that was neither here nor there.

Next week, Akaashi set out his new design for cake pops.

Bokuto's blinding grin almost made up for the fact that he was grinning for the bane of Akaashi's existence.

Akaashi just wanted this day to be over.

The problems had begun when he was making the fresh donuts for the morning and accidentally forgot to put sugar in the dough. How did that even happen? Akaashi prided himself on his meticulous, careful consideration and attention to his recipes--everything was measured out to the nth milligram. He even timed how long it took for the dry ingredients and wet ingredients to fully integrate in the mixer, to prevent overmixing and maximize efficient dough prep time.

And he forgot... sugar.

Needless to say, he had to restart the dough.

Then, around noon, a lady came in to pick up a special order of cupcakes for her son’s birthday.

What had ensued was the worst thirty minutes of Akaashi’s life, as he tried to carefully explain that when she had said she wanted  _ blue cupcakes _ , the implication was that the  _ frosting  _ was blue, especially considering the fact that the cupcakes were chocolate, leading them to be a color that was notoriously near to impossible to dye unless you wanted something like red velvet (which was colored using non-Dutched cocoa, vinegar, buttermilk, and chemistry,  _ not  _ just industrial grade food coloring), while simultaneously trying to manage his usual lunch rush customers. Finally, the woman had just begrudgingly paid for the desserts and left, with the promise that she would never order cupcakes from Akaashi’s establishment ever again.

_ Good riddance. _

Akaashi was so tired.

He had half a mind to just close the shop early and go home and crawl under a blanket and read a book and maybe never come out.

But it was Wednesday, and it was only 4:00 PM, and for some reason the idea of closing the shop before his strange cake-pop-obsessed regular could get his fix only worsened his anxiety.

Maybe he could close after Bokuto left. Grab something quick to make for dinner on the way home, take a warm bath, read a few chapters of something, and turn in early. He should probably do a little bit of cleaning, too, the dust on his coffee table was starting to become visible. Laundry, too, but perhaps that could wait until the weekend-

“‘Kaaaashi?”

Akaashi blinked.

He’d been so invested in his own thoughts, he somehow hadn’t noticed Bokuto’s usual loud entrance, loud greeting, loud everything, until the man was right in front of Akaashi, with a confused head tilt.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asked. “You looked sad!”

“I’m not sad, it’s just been a long day. Two cake pops, like usual?”

Bokuto frowned for a moment, but then his bright smile was back. “Three! You can pick the flavor of the third!”

“Alright.” Akaashi packaged up the candy, placing the extra chocolate one in the bag, and handed it to his customer.

Instead of leaving immediately like he normally did, Bokuto took a moment to fish through the bag. He pulled out the extra cake pop and held it out. “For you! Have a good day!” 

And then he was gone, bounding out the door, cake pops clutched in one hand, without even giving Akaashi time to offer the obligatory,  _ You too  _ or  _ Thank you. _

Akaashi blinked, processing the whirlwind interaction. Every time he saw Bokuto it felt akin to dunking his head in ice water, and this time was no different. He was confused, a little annoyed, and very,  _ very  _ awake.

He stared at the cake pop in his hand, the passive owl looking up at him with wide eyes, not unlike the man who had inspired the confection. Akaashi took a careful bite, relishing the moment that the candy melt shell broke and the sweet taste of chocolate cake and American buttercream frosting flooded his taste buds.

Maybe they lacked subtlety, maybe they tasted a bit too sweet, maybe they were just a touch childish, but also...

Maybe cake pops weren’t so bad after all.

Suddenly, something switched in Akaashi. Or maybe that  _ thing _ had been sliding, unnoticed, until Konoha had pointed out his obvious favoritism for his regular Wednesday customer.

But all of a sudden, a small part of Akaashi was  _ excited  _ to make cake pops, and the feeling of kneading the cake and frosting was more comforting than nauseating. What he had originally thought of as dread pooling in his gut as the clock slowly ticked to 4 PM, announcing the arrival of a disruption to his peaceful quiet time, he slowly realized to actually be  _ anticipation _ .

The annoyance that was Bokuto suddenly got a lot more annoying.

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” Bokuto said, one day, as he accepted his cake pops. “And you don’t know anything about me!”

“I’m a baker, Bokuto, and you’re my customer. We don’t need to know anything about each other.”

Bokuto pouted, even his hair drooping sadly. “Are you saying you aren’t curious about anything about me and my life?”

The thing was, Akaashi wanted to say  _ no. _ It was the most practical answer. They had a strictly professional relationship and nothing more and Akaashi couldn’t very well make a habit of flirting with his patrons, but Akaashi  _ was  _ curious. He wanted to know Bokuto’s first name, why he had a  _ cheat day _ , and  _ how did his hair do that?  _

Akaashi opened his mouth to say no, but instead, he said, “I am.”

“Great! What’s your favorite color?”

Akaashi blinked. “ _ That’s  _ the first question you ask?” Bokuto nodded, looking much too interested in whatever hue or shade Akaashi was about to say. “Okay, gray.”

“Mine is yellow! What do you like to do for fun?”

“Read, I guess. I used to play volleyball.”

Bokuto brightened to an almost impossible level, and suddenly Akaashi understood the type of person that had  _ yellow  _ as their favorite color. “I play professional volleyball! What position did you play?”

“Setter.”

“Set for me,” Bokuto demanded, immediately, looking like he was seconds away from getting on his knees to beg or maybe sprint to the nearest sports equipment store to  _ buy  _ a volleyball to play with. “Please set for me!”

“I’m pretty sure you have professional players to set for you, Bokuto,” Akaashi reminded his customer, carefully. “ And I only played in high school. I don’t think you want me setting for you.”

“Oh,” Bokuto said, looking crestfallen. “Okay.”

For some reason, the sight of Bokuto’s visible sadness, no matter how dramatic and childish it may be, tugged at Akaashi heartstrings.

He sighed. “But that wasn’t a  _ no _ , either, Bokuto.”

“Damn,” Konoha muttered, observing Akaashi’s limp body, sulking on his couch the next Friday night. “You got it bad for this owl man.”

Akaashi didn’t respond, but apparently the way he sunk further into his blanket was a response enough, because Konoha cackled.

“Set for me.”

“Not now, Bokuto _. _ ”

And thus there was a new step to their weekly routine, which involved Bokuto asking Akaashi fifty times to set for him, usually interrupted by Akaashi’s reminder that he had to  _ work  _ and he couldn’t just close his bakery in the middle of the day.

The new volleyball-themed cake pops did nothing to sate Bokuto’s strange desire, either.

“You should just ask him out already,” Konoha said, as he lounged on one of the tables in the White Owl Bakery.

“I can’t do that.”

It was Wednesday, and it was 4 PM, and Akaashi had failed to get Konoha to leave his store for the last half an hour. He insisted he just wanted to meet the man that was haunting his best friend’s work, but Akaashi didn’t trust his grin.

“Why not? He seems pretty intent on getting to know you. Just speed things up a little.”

Akaashi sighed. “He’s just being polite. And I can’t flirt with all my customers.”

“You don’t have to flirt with  _ all  _ of them,” Konoha corrected with an eyebrow wiggle. “Just this one.”

“Please shut up.”

Thankfully, Konoha did, and Akaashi resigned himself to staring at the clock.

Bokuto didn’t come.

Akaashi made himself some truffles.

He ate his fancy and sophisticated truffles and quietly read a book and enjoyed a hot bath--all things that usually made him feel better, but he still felt terrible with a stomach full of French chocolate and a head full of pretentious words.

And he was craving a cake pop.

Theoretically, Akaashi shouldn’t have been upset at Bokuto’s absence. He was just a customer, one out of two hundred or so that his store saw weekly, but against all logic, Akaashi had bonded with the strange man and now he was gone and Akaashi was  _ sad.  _

It was only one day, Akaashi tried to tell himself. He missed one day, and he would be back the next Wednesday for his two cake pops and his annoyingly persistent questions.

Bokuto missed the next week, too.

Akaashi made more truffles and tried to move on.

The key word was  _ tried  _ because he couldn’t stop thinking about the man, every time a child asked for a cake pop or every time he had to make more cake pops or every time he looked a goddamn volleyball, he could only think of Bokuto.

He tried to distract himself with Konoha, but then his friend would turn to a professional volleyball team on TV and Akaashi would glance over and see  _ Bokuto _ .

Konoha, meanwhile, was terrible at cheering him up. “At least he’s not dead or something?”

Instead of responding, Akaashi just stared at the screen, as Bokuto answered some questions for a reporter. The sight twisted something in Akaashi, not just because he was watching Bokuto, but because the player seemed to lack some of his usual enthusiasm. Even his hair looked limper than usual, and Akaashi allowed himself a self-indulgent moment where he imagined that he caused the change in attitude, before he squashed the thought.

Konoha changed the channel.

Soon enough, Wednesdays were just Wednesdays again. 4 PM was just 4 PM. Cake pops were just cake pops.

Akaashi stopped waiting for Bokuto to reappear.

The next Wednesday, at 4 pm, he had a new strange customer.

This one was shorter, but just as energetic, with bright orange hair and holding a duffel with the logo of Bokuto’s team, so Akaashi debated whether hiding in the kitchen was an option, before the man’s eyes locked onto his, and he approached the counter.

“Are you ‘Kaashi?”

“Akaashi,” he corrected, but gave a polite nod. “Yes. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Bokuto told me to give this to you!” He finally squeaked out, placing a small object in Akaashi’s hand. “And he told me tell you  _ sorry for bothering you. _ ”

Akaashi blinked down at the little round horned owl stuffed animal in front of him, not unlike the owl cake pops in the display below and also not unlike the absent man of Akaashi’s affection.

_ Sorry for bothering you. _

Akaashi took one long breath, in and out, and reached for a paper bag. “Excuse me, can you take something back to Bokuto for me?

“Sure!”

“Great.” Akaashi filled the bag with Bokuto’s usual order, one lemon and one chocolate owl-themed cake pops, and held it out to Bokuto’s teammate. “Can you also tell him that he’s an idiot?”

It was Wednesday, and it was 4 PM. Usually Akaashi’s quiet time.

Except now there was another man. A volleyball player, tall and broad and vaguely childish with a strange affinity for cake pops, laughing loudly about something that Akaashi didn’t entirely understand, but smiled along to nonetheless, and Akaashi admitted to himself, finally, that of all the things he baked for his bakery, cake pops were his favorite.

It wasn’t for simplicity of them, as decorating could take hours if he wanted to do it correctly. It wasn’t for the taste, either, as there was too much sugar for them to contain any flavor complexity. They lacked sophistication, they lacked subtly, and Akaashi definitely wouldn’t be winning any awards for having great cake pops, unlike his lemon bars or tarts.

It made no logical sense, but he could confidently say cake pops were his favorite. They were sickly sweet and they were plain and they were childish, and they reminded him of his fiance, and no French chocolate truffle could replicate the spark of joy that came from seeing Bokuto’s grin after biting into one of Akaashi’s cake pops.

_ Yeah, _ Akaashi mused, with a soft smile.  _ Maybe cake pops weren’t so bad after all. _

**Author's Note:**

> i got halfway through this before i realized that i was just writing the cake pops as a metaphor for bokuto because lord knows i have no idea what i'm doing when i write words. also, no, i'm not projecting onto the fact that i hate making cake pops. (something always goes wrong?? look, i can bake and decorate four dozen cupcakes with two different flavors including fillings from scratch but lord knows that cake pops smite me where i stand for my own hubris). anyways thanks for reading and happy bokuaka week :)


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